by Julie Wright
Note to self:
No matter what happens . . . it can always be worse.
At least I’m not married to a troll.
She looks a fair bit like you, Katrine,” one Kvinna said.
“She’s lovely!” said another
“And the cleverness of how she escaped the fire frenzy? Unparalleled! So nice to have a Kvinna of wit among us,” said another.
“Yes, she is all of those things,” Farmor said to all the Kvinnor who surrounded us, making me feel almost as if I were stuck in the caves again even though we were outside. The forest around us was warm and alive as though it were summer. Flowers blossomed everywhere and the leaves were thick and green, but outside the square patch of forest where we stood, the trees and meadows were shrouded in the snows of winter.
The other lärlings acted as dazed as I felt.
Farmor called out, “What she needs is sleep, and lots of it. It’s time for the vows so these girls can go home. We don’t want their families worrying.” A trickle of laughter followed that last comment, as if they all knew how much families really should be worrying. I found their humor in such a thing disturbing.
The vows.
Jake.
I looked everywhere through the crowd of capes and leafy dresses, everywhere through the bodies of trolls. Jake wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
The Kvinnor and trolls cleared the path for the lärlings, and Farmor led me to a raised platform surrounded in flowers and ivy vines. My relief at being done with the scary stuff fled upon seeing four stones lining the platform just like the Elva imposter had said.
Sitting on a throne on the platform was the biggest, ugliest troll I’d ever imagined.
His hair and eyebrows were more like moss. Above his ears, antlers branched out from the sides of his head. A wreath of ivy and flowers were settled on the antlers. He scratched at his bulbous, red nose that was pocked and cratered like a piece of lava rock, and he slouched against the side of his throne as though incredibly bored.
In the considerably smaller throne next to his sat an older woman in a red cape. Her eyes were heavy from fatigue, and not just from the evening and being up late. Hers was the kind of tired that went clear to the bone. But she sat up straight in her throne, bowed her head—showing the intricate braid done in a bun at the back of her hair—then lifted her head, and smiled at the lärlings.
“Congratulations, daughters of the bonded three. You excelled in your trials with grace and dignity. You’ve befriended the air and water, and earned the respect of the fire and earth, so you will always find them willing to come to your aid. Well done indeed!”
Her praise covered me like the warmth of a fluffy blanket just out of the dryer.
The Troll King snorted and rolled his eyes, which was the equivalent of him yanking the warm fluffy blanket off me. “Let’s get to the vows and be done!” he said.
The trolls all agreed and nodded their huge shaggy heads. Though the Troll Kvinnor seemed irritated that the Troll King spoke at all, they didn’t argue with him. The Troll Queen on the throne stood and beckoned us forward. I approached the platform of flora and fauna with the others.
She singled me out first.
“Kneel, daughter of Britta.”
I knelt, my knees surrounded by warmth, and green and growing plant life. It was a huge contrast to the frozen world on the other side of the platform and thrones. But the comfort did little to thaw the ice in my heart. Where was Jake? How would I help him?
I glanced up, noting that the stones of power all lay within my reach. Jake. He needed me. I couldn’t take the vows but instead had to touch a stone. Which one? I couldn’t remember. My mind fogged with overexertion and panic.
I glanced to the side of me. The lärlings. Behind me were the witches and the trolls.
And then it hit me—a memory of Elva in my room turning to the mirror. Her face had flickered and for just a second, she looked just like . . .
A troll.
“She’s a troll!” I whispered. She wanted me to release my power because she wanted that power for herself. I scrambled to my feet, sending a wave of murmurings through the crowd. Apparently no one stood when they’d been directed to kneel by the Troll Queen. I scanned the crowd to find any sign of her—the faker.
“Jake . . .” I whispered and pulled the cord out of my shirt so the pendant dangled in front of my eyes. “Jake, where are you?”
The Troll Queen, confused, stepped forward and tried to take the pendant from my fingers since we were in the middle of a ceremony, but I blocked her with a wave of air I didn’t remember calling to my aid. Cries of outrage filled the space around me. People moved forward to stop what must have appeared to be an attack on their queen, but with a squeak of panic, I blocked them as well. I peered into the small glass of my pendant, the red bubbles separating to reveal Jake’s face. But instead of focusing on his face, I looked at the walls around him, the ground he stood on. The walls had paintings—similar to the ones in the cave of power. Where was he?
I held the pendant up to the air shield so the shocked-and-getting-furious Troll Queen could look. “Where is this? I have to find him. Someone—a woman troll—who pretended to be Elva kidnapped him and said she’d kill him unless I touched the stone and released my power.”
If the crowd had gasped before, they were all out of breath now. I heard murmurs of Elva’s name, and traitor, and stones of power.
For once, the Troll King looked anything but bored. He peered through my air barrier to the pendant. His mossy brow furrowed. “What is this? Where did you get this?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. You’ve got to go there. You have to get him. She said she’d kill him if I took the vows. Tell me where this is so I can help him!” I pled, feeling desperate. Didn’t these people understand the time crunch here?
“Fool!” A voice called from the crowd. And there she was—the one I’d seen in my mirror at home. The troll rushed me, and I could almost see her thoughts. She meant to force my hand to touch the stone.
I backed up, throwing my hands out to the side. Everyone around me disappeared. Suddenly I was in the cave of power. Elva stood there with a female troll. “I don’t want it!” Elva cried. “It killed my daughter! Take it back! I’ll make you a trade—the power for my daughter’s life returned to her body.” She motioned toward where a girl seemed to sleep amongst the stalagmites.
The troll looked from the woman to the girl. The troll shook her head. “You are not strong enough to return the power. Britta could return it to us. She has the strength, but not you. Without it, I cannot bring back your daughter.”
Elva shook her head. “Britta will never return it. The whole village is at stake. Without her to shield them, they would be overrun with trolls. The village would be lost. What does she care for my daughter with the village at stake? Take my power. I give it willingly.”
The troll smiled. “You’re right. Britta will not sacrifice the village. She isn’t selfish as you are. But you’ve given me hope. Someday, another will be born with power such as Britta’s—one who is of her bloodline, one who will not have a village to protect. She will have the strength to return the gift. I will tell my daughters to tell their daughters to watch for her. Someday the power will be ours again. And then, the humans will pay for our loss.” The troll stood.
“But what of my daughter?” Elva begged, hysterical with grief.
“She is gone to you. Bury her and move on. I can no longer be bothered with you. I have plans to make.”
The echo and shadow left, and I was back by the platform with the stones, the Troll King and Queen, and the other lärlings. The female troll was still charging my direction.
I called the air, and it rushed to my defense, rustling snow off tree branches on its way by. It wrapped around her, and she fell, unable to move her arms or legs.
Everyone fell silent—watching me as I pounced on the air-wrapped troll. “Where is he?” I demanded to know.
&nbs
p; She glared and lowered her head—refusing to respond.
“Where?” I shouted, shaking the pendant at her.
The Troll King said, “Answer the girl, Fula!”
The Troll Queen, through her own power, had loosened my blockade of air; she took my hand carefully, as if expecting to meet up with another barrier. “That room is in the Troll Palace. Those paintings are kept in the rooms belonging to the king’s sister. I’ll take you.” And we unraveled—like when they’d whisked me to the trials.
We snapped back into place in a room that had the same paintings on the walls as shown in the scrying glass. Jake stumbled backwards onto the floor when he saw us. As he made eye contact with me, his expression went from startled and ready-to-fight to confused. “Ally? Ally, what are you doing here?”
I went to him and pulled him to his feet. “Are you okay? Hurry, let’s get you out of here!”
The Troll Queen smiled softly. “Our only hurry is to get you to your vows before the witching hours are upon us. And that is an urgency not to be ignored. Take his hand, Allyson.”
I did as directed. We unraveled and were back at the platform. The troll I’d bound in air was being held by several other Kvinnor. They floated her away on a bed of air. “Wait! Where are they taking her?” I asked, panicked they might let her go.
“She’ll be held where she can’t hurt anyone,” the Troll Queen whispered. “She has magic on her—not troll magic, but some kind of magic. That is dangerous. If any of the others discover how she’s done this, it could mean war for our kind. Removing her from the others is our safest option right now. We can’t let them know what she has done.”
“The time!” The Troll King shouted, but the shout didn’t seem angry, only urgent.
The Troll Queen led me back to the platform and told me to kneel. Her voice also betrayed her urgency. I hurried to obey. Jake stood off to the side of me, still holding my hand.
The Troll Queen said, “We cannot tamper in governments, kingdoms, economies, love, or death—either preventing or causing. Do you, Allyson Katrine Peterson, swear to uphold this law?”
“I swear,” I said, hoping that was the right thing to say.
“Hold out your hands, dear,” she said.
I tossed a look at Jake, and, though he seemed a little unhappy about it, he let go of my hand. I then held out both of my hands in front of me, palms face up as if I’d planned on scooping up water to wash my face. A lump of soil filled my left hand. As I watched, water filled the palm of my right hand. Then a globe with a flame inside it appeared floating on the water. A soft breeze flew in and wrapped itself around my hands and all the things I held.
“There,” the Troll Kvinna said. “It is sealed by the elements and the spirit of your word. The elements will not work for these purposes under your hands. You will find you cannot even attempt to meddle in forbidden places. Your powers will fail you and your word will be as dust before the rest of us. You’ve been proven, Allyson Katrine Peterson—daughter of Britta. May your rest this night be peaceful.”
She motioned for me to stand, and the elements in my hands vanished. I stood. They hurried along with the vows for the other lärlings, then the hugs, smiles, and cheers of congratulations started all over again, everyone seeming to have forgotten the chaos only moments before. It was as though since the Queen had forgiven me for binding her in air, everyone else had no problem doing the same. Jake was jostled and shoved, but managed to stick pretty close to me in all the excitement. He tried to talk to me, to demand answers, but the roar of celebration drowned out his voice.
The vows did not say anything about me being bound to the trolls like a slave. The troll named Fula had lied to me. And now I knew why. She’d meant to take back the power and cause a war.
I glanced back through the crowd surrounding me to the platform. The Troll Queen sat back in her throne and watched me. She tilted her chin in a sign of respect. I squirmed uncomfortably under the intensity of her interest in me.
Farmor tugged at my arm, pulling my attention from the Queen. “Let’s get you home, älskling.” She’d managed to project her voice so I heard her specifically.
“But what about what happened?”
“We’ll deal with it after you’ve rested your spells.”
“Don’t they care about what that thing did? Don’t they have questions for me?”
“Ja, questions, but they also have scrying glasses and echoes to sift through. They don’t need you right now. Believe me, they will—and soon, but they understand what you’ve been through and how much rest is needed.” When she took my hand, it seemed everyone else knew we were leaving and started calling out farewells. I hurried to latch onto Jake, not wanting to leave him behind.
And then, with a squeeze of my hand, a sudden rushing feeling of wind flew into my face and stung my eyes. I was unraveled again. Pieces of me floated along with the wind. Only this time I trusted the air to not lose any part of me.
And then we were in my room, standing by my open window.
Home.
Farmor quickly waved a hand over Jake’s face, “Sova pojke.” He stumbled a little, but she caught him on a bed of air and lowered him carefully to the ground where his eyes closed instantly, and he slept.
I watched his sleeping form before frowning.
“What’s wrong?” Farmor asked.
“He snores like Dad.”
She laughed. Farmor bundled me up into a tight hug. “You were very brave,” she said.
“Brave? I cried like a baby half the time,” I mumbled against her cape.
“Bravery is facing what’s coming. Even if you face what’s coming with tears, or even anger. You were splendid, älskling. And so strong. I do not believe we’ve seen a Troll Kvinna with such strength in well over the last century. I could not have been more proud.”
I pulled away and searched her eyes. “But you were scared for me too. You weren’t sure I’d make it. Has anyone really ever died in the trials?”
She nodded solemnly. “Yes.”
“And you guys still allow the trials to happen? No one rebels or refuses to take part?”
She sighed and undid her cape, sending it flying to the peg on my wall with a flick of her wrist. “The trials are necessary. The Troll Kvinna who has not forged a relationship with the elements under extreme duress, as you did tonight, never fully gains control of the elements. They never learn to trust her, and she ends up failing in her powers.”
I looked at the peg and the cape in my own hands, then felt the air around me build until it picked up my cape for me and fled off with it to the peg.
“That’s . . . really awesome.” I sent a wave of gratitude towards the air, then sank onto the end of my bed, noting that my favorite clothes were folded neatly on the end. In exhaustion, I swept them to the side, climbed into my covers, and closed my eyes.
“I bet it was because of the fire,” I said, my voice thick with sleep.
“What?” Farmor asked.
“The ones who died. I’ll bet it was at the fire.”
Farmor’s soft voice sounded mournful. “No. Most are lost at the trial of soul. It is a difficult thing to face yourself and the fears of who you believe you might be. Sleep, älskling. Rest your spells.”
And with her words swirling through the fog in my mind, I felt myself fall into that fog, and slept deeply.
“I think we should call the doctor.”
My mom’s voice rode the static of my brain for several moments before the words made any sense.
“No.” It was Farmor this time. “A doctor would make things worse.”
“But she’s been asleep for four days!”
Four days? Not possible. I strained against the static and fog to try to say something, to let them know I was awake, but couldn’t muster the strength.
“A doctor might declare her in a coma or something.” Dad’s voice this time. “They might do something to make it worse.” His heavy footsteps—which made the floorboa
rds of our old home squeak—told me he was pacing. “Can they make it worse?” His voice sounded afraid, tense, worried.
“The trials are hard on the new Troll Kvinna. She’s just resting it off.”
“For four days? When, Katrine? When is she going to be done resting this off?” Mom’s voice sounded like Dad’s, only hers was angry, too.
I tried clawing my way through the static. “I’m awake!” I said. Only it came out, “Mmmff.”
“She’s moving.” Dad’s voice. He’d stopped pacing.
My mom was at my side. Her wavy hair tickled my face and the smell of her soap filled my senses. I tried to open my eyes as she took my hand, but couldn’t seem to manage the task. “Mom?” I was glad the word came out sounding like it was supposed to.
My eyes finally opened on the fourth try. The blurriness cleared up after a few blinks.
Mom looked terrible, her eyes puffy and squishy like she’d been crying. The last time they’d looked that bad was the argument that ended with Dad moving out. I felt bad her eyes were that way again because of me.
“I’m fine,” I said, only it came out, “Mmm fin.”
At least I wasn’t all cut up and caked in dirty wax. Mom would have flipped if she’d seen me like that.
“Do you hurt anywhere?” Mom asked.
“No hurts.” The speaking was definitely improving. But wow. Tired. I could have slept more if they hadn’t been yelling at each other in my bedroom. Then I remembered Jake and shot Farmor a panicked look.
“He’s fine. He’s home,” she confirmed. “We talked for a while before I bound him to silence regarding the whole of the affair. For good measure, I put a dampening on his memory as well, so he’ll be unsteady in his surety of events. I wanted to consult you before I did anything permanent.”
A dampening spell on his memory? I hoped he hadn’t needed to take any tests at school. Relief and confusion filled me. What would be the best thing to happen in that situation? I didn’t know, but it was hard to focus on Jake Warren when my parents hovered over me and pelted me with questions regarding my well-being. After several more assurances that I was good but wanted to get up and get dressed, they all finally bustled out of my room, my mom insisting she was going to make a huge breakfast to make up for the meals I’d missed.